


In Summer Comes New Fortunes

by nothing_rhymes_with_ianto



Series: Dancing In Air [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 1930s, Gen, M/M, circus AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto/pseuds/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is convinced to go to the circus. Joly and Bossuet discover a new and promising fortune.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Summer Comes New Fortunes

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur gave me this idea. And I did a bunch of research and then finally started to write it.  
> Thank you to Jo for her knowledge in tarot and also her experience in circus.  
> Also, this fic starts in the summer of 1928.

Everything is closed. Final exams are over and it's summer and today everything is closed, school and shops alike. In a field just out of town, tents are being set up, and everyone is grinning with excitement because _today's the day_. It's summertime, and Enjolras has been forcibly removed from his dorm room and out into the street, Courfeyrac clutching at his arm and babbling excitedly while Combeferre walks beside them with an amused smile sliding across his face. Courfeyrac's energy only grows when they pass a huge colourful poster plastered onto the wall of the local deli, proclaiming entertainment and wonders, and Enjolras shakes his head.

"I don't know. I still have work to do for next semester."

Courfeyrac's hand smacks him in the chest with a dull thud. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure? It's the _circus_."

"And you do need to relax a little. It'll be good for you." Combeferre adds with a small nod, pushing his metal-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Enjolras thinks about it. He _is_ tired from all the work he's been doing this year. And it _is_ summer. And it's hot. And he hasn't been to a circus since he was a kid. And it does seem rather tempting. Courfeyrac's enthusiastic tugging on his arm doesn't help. He sighs.

"Okay. Okay, fine. Lead the way."

With a whoop, Courfeyrac releases him in order to fling his hands in the air and run down to the corner of the street before stopping like a small child and waiting for the other two to catch up. They walk at a casual pace despite their friend's insistence. The faint sound of the calliope music and shouts of children and adults alike grows louder as they draw near the tents.

Stepping under the little wooden arch that bears the name of _Circus Ultimus_ is like stepping through a portal. Enjolras is hit first by the heavy smell of sawdust and straw that nearly masks the pungent scent of sweat and sugar and wet burlap. The field is a whirl of colour, tents rippling in the breeze, costumed ticket-sellers and sideshow performers selling their wares, children running about with shrieks of joy, balloons escaping from tiny fists to run away into the sky. The bird-call yells of concession sellers and ticket hockers harmonize with the enthusiastic cries of the crowd and the shrill whistles and rough yells of men still setting up parts of the fair. They follow Courfeyrac as he bounds up to a little wooden cart painted green and pink and buys a cloud of pink-coloured spun sugar the size of his head.

"Does he really need more sugar?" Enjolras mutters to Combeferre, who huffs out a laugh with his head thrown back.

"Oh, let him be. It's the circus!"

The sideshows are under way, getting the crowd excited for the main show, and they watch from the back of a group of children and students as a man dressed in burgundy pantaloons and a turban hat swallows a sword until the handle is the only thing not in his mouth, does a swaying dance, and pulls it back out. The crowd 'ahhhs' appropriately, and a few of the littlest children shriek in surprise. A partner joins the man onstage, and they begin to juggle short machetes back and forth. Courfeyrac moves on and Combeferre and Enjolras can do nothing but follow.

 As they exit the tent, a familiar voice shouts, "Oi! You all!"

Bossuet's closely-shorn head is visible before the rest of him as he shoves through the crowd. Joly trails behind him, picking his way more carefully through the people packed together.

"Hello!" Courfeyrac embraces him, and they stand there face to face, both bouncing on the balls of their feet like two enthusiastic bowling pins. "Where are you going?"

Bossuet grins and waves hello to Enjolras and Combeferre as he answers. "I couldn't convince Joly to get his fortune read, so I'm going have mine done."

"It's sure to upset the woman when all you get are bad luck omens."

Bossuet smirks lopsidedly, one rosy cheeky bunching up more than the other. His blue eyes glint with mischief. "Precisely."

Courfeyrac bounces more enthusiastically, biting his lips to hide his own grin. His hands flap in front of him in a 'go on' gesture. "You're incorrigible. Have fun!"

"You betcha!" A pair of thumbs are flashed up, then Bossuet has Joly by the wrist and is dragging the little medical student towards the fortune teller's lavishly decorated caravan, a wooden wagon colourfully painted with curling, flourishing designs and white celestial bodies.

Enjolras and his friends turn back to the cluster of tents behind them. The next tent they encounter is where the freaks are billed, but Courfeyrac takes one look at Enjolras and skips that tent for the one labeled burlesque. The inside of the tent has a stage that's bordered by red cloth and tassels of gold. Smooth music starts up, slipping out from under the curtain, and the audience tenses in anticipation. The girls step out clothed in blue velvet and gold lamé, beads jingling from their wrists and ankles as they dance and sway and peel off layer by layer. It's more fun to watch Courfeyrac's eyes grow bigger and his mouth drop open and a flush rise on his cheeks than it is to watch the actual show, and it's difficult for Combeferre and Enjolras to contain their laughter at his reactions as the barely-clothed ladies bow and curtsy and wiggle offstage.

"Come on, loverboy. It's time for the main show."

\-------

Madame Musichetta's caravan is dim and smokey, the sweet smell of incense is heavy in the air. Bossuet pushes the glass beaded curtain aside and enters, Joly hesitant behind him. The tiny wagon is a menagerie of mysteries and decadence. Strings of glittering glass beads, striped and dun animal pelts, little bells and clusters of dried herbs hang from the ceiling. Colourful scarves in decadent shades of green and gold and red and purple form curtains sectioning off parts of the wagon.

The fortune teller herself sits at a little round table covered with dark cloth. Her hair is covered by an orange and red scarf wrapped around her head, though a few long dark curls have fallen out and brush against her cheeks. Heavy gold hoops dangle from her ears, and a necklace of thin gold coins jingles at her neck. She wears a purple bodice over an old-fashioned white cotton shirt, and a long red skirt. Ribbons are tied into the eyelets on the side of the bodice. Her eyes are at once mysterious and playful as she stares expectantly at the men standing in her doorway.

"Hello," Bossuet says cheerfully.

"Welcome. I am Madame Musichetta." She gestures to the ornate wooden chair on the opposite of her, and Bossuet sits on the blue cushion obediently. "What of my services can I offer you?"

"I'd like my tarot read, Madame. I'm thinking there's good things ahead."

"Very well." Musichetta smiles at him a little bit, and he grins disarmingly. She blinks and looks down at the cards in her hands. She taps them twice in thought, then holds them out. "Shuffle the deck with your thoughts on what you want to know."

Bossuet does as he's told, humming a little. Joly is standing close to the little beaded curtain, still uncertain, chewing on his bottom lip as he watches Bossuet's square hands shuffle and flip the cards. Musichetta's thin dark fingers wrap around the deck when Bossuet stops humming and hands it back to her. She puts the first card face-down on the table. Five cards are placed rapidly down to make a pyramid of two cards, two cards, and one card. Musichetta taps the first card she put down and flips it face-up, pressing her index finger against the corner as she examines the card. Five scepters crisscross over each other, and Bossuet watches her eyes trace their lines.

"There are problems in your life. Little annoyances and delays and accidents that are hindering." She flips the next card over. A golden Sun with a subtle smile stares out as a pair of naked children dance beneath it. "But it seems you do not mind, and may even be optimistic about your misfortunes."

Bossuet turns to Joly with his eyebrows raised. "Impressive!" He's looking at his friend, and misses her satisfied smile. The next card is a golden chalice spilling water over the brim and she taps it with a smile.

"Your immediate future will bring new relationships and strong emotions. Ones that will affect you deeply." The next card is a compass, with runes encircling the arrows and winged creatures guarding from the corners. Musichetta nods and smiles, her hands pressing against the edge of the table. "This is the Wheel of Fortune. These new relationships may change your fortune in a positive direction, bringing an upward turn from your current frustration."

Joly has stopped chewing his lips and has come forward to lean over Bossuet's shoulder in curiosity, fascinated by the predictions. His eyes, though, are on Musichetta, not the cards. Her fingers flip the final card with a slow grace. It is a man and a woman standing face to face, each bearing a golden cup, staring into each other's eyes as a winged lion head soars above them.

"Hmm. The two of cups. Your far off future is going to include a new relationship, and falling to the harmony and the steps of the dance that comes with such a partnership." She nods and looks up at him, expression open and more kind than mysterious. "It seems to me that your future has better things in store for you than the present."

"Let's hope so." Bossuet reaches up behind him and pokes Joly. "Come on, Joly, let's get you to have a try!"

Joly, startled out of his gaze on Musichetta's face, jumps and squeaks. Musichetta hides a smile. "I-- well-- oh, all right."

Bossuet vacates his seat and Joly shuffles the deck before Musichetta lays the cards out in the horseshoe-shaped pyramid. The first card turned features a young woman crying in her bed while nine swords stripe across the wall behind her.

"You have many fears and worries that may not all be real. Your concerns may be all in your head. You are afraid of things that might not exist."

Bossuet jabs Joly's shoulder with two fingers. "See, I told you! I knew it!"

Joly rolls his eyes, then smiles at Musichetta to continue as she gazes peacefully at them, waiting until they're finished. She turns the next card, which portrays a man holding a globe, two staffs on either side of him.

"Hmm, Two of Wands," Musichetta muses. "You are beginning to step onto the path to achieve the goals you've set for yourself. Now is a good time to create new, strong relationships, especially with those who will assist you on your path."

The next card in the pyramid nearly makes Joly jump, but Musichetta only frowns a little. It is a creature that seems half-man, half-goat, sitting on a throne while a pair of bat's wings spread out from his back. Beneath him are chained a man and a woman, standing placidly. The entire card feels ominous, terrifying, horrible. Joly's nostrils flare as he feels his heart rate picking up, and wonders for a moment if he's going to be ill.

"The Devil card is not what you think," Musichetta reassures. It's unusual for her to comfort her customers; usually she tries to make the readings as strange and near-frightening as possible, but this feels different. It _is_ different. "It means there is something in your life that is holding you back and may continue to cause problems. But it's necessary that you toss aside these inhibitions and try to make way for something new to come. You will have to get rid of some fears or worries in order to move forward."

Joly sighs out a breath as Bossuet pats him on the shoulder. "Well, that's a relief."

Musichetta smirks. "It usually is. Oh--" She's turned over the next card, and it is a familiar one. The Ace Of Cups sits in front of them, its single chalice overflowing as a dove flies overhead. "You, too, will encounter a new relationship and strong emotions that will affect you."

"Huh." Bossuet raises a brow at the card on the table Musichetta flips the last card with the slow grace she's perfected over the years. A long moment of stunned silence follows as they all stare down at the card picturing a couple bearing chalices.

"Your...future...will include a relationship which you will fall into the harmony and rhythm that comes with it." Musichetta states, hesitating as she stares at the card. For a moment, the mask of mystery drops entirely and she looks up at the two men, a hopeful and enthusiastic young woman, and a spark of electricity seems to circle through the room. Bossuet's hand tightens on Joly's shoulder, and Joly's breath catches in his throat. Musichetta opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

Then she drops her head and snatches the cards off the table, shuffling the deck and setting out a spread of five cards. Her long fingers flip each card over, mouth moving silently as she reads out her own tarot. On the fourth card, she turns over an Ace of Cups. Then a Two of Cups. The feeling of electricity crackles through them, making their scalps tense as they shiver. They stare down at the cards, then at each other.

"Oh," says Bossuet.


End file.
